


He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Death_inspiresme



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Romance, Bad Decisions, Based on a Tumblr Post, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, First Time Blow Jobs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Sexual Tension, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_inspiresme/pseuds/Death_inspiresme
Summary: Peter is sixteen, and he's pretty sure his life is turning into a cheesy teen novel. Nerdy unpopular kid, bullied in school pretty much all the time? Check. A grand total of two (2) friends? Check. Troubled past? Check. Crushing hard on someone totally unattainable? Check.Oh and by the way, did he mention that said crush refers to  his Aunt's- much older, unfairly attractive, grade A asshole- boyfriend?Because it does, and his name is Tony Stark.





	He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Starting a new fic and ignoring the growing pile of unfinished works I have? It's more likely than you think.

  
  The first time he meets the older man is in his home, after coming home from band practice-- sweaty, red-faced from exhaustion, hoodie askew over his tangled nest of hair; a literal mess. Textbook definition of a puberescent child, with a ragged backpack slung over his hunched shoulders to match.

  Peter had threw said backpack onto the couch when he finally noticed Tony for the first time, slouched against the cushions, legs sprawled obscenely wide. He very nearly screamed, but managed to keep silent as his backpack hits a trouser-clad knee and falls off onto the floor with a muffled thump. That might be the fourth trumpet he broke this semester. 

  The stranger stared at him-- seemingly-- vastly unbothered. He was holding May's favourite mug in his hands, strong thick fingers wrapped around the handle of it; wow, Peter's pretty sure he hasn't ever seen such calloused hands in his life. Standing there in the doorway, he's struck with the sudden and overwhelming need to know what it's like to feel that rough tan skin under his.

  "Who are you?" The man's eyes are dark, dangerously so; almost as though piercing through his soul, his voice a smooth deep baritone. It occurs to Peter that he might be getting stabbed today.

  "Shouldn't I be asking that question? You're in my home." His voice is quivery-- and not because he's just come to the realization that the man he's talking to might be a serial killer-

  But that's a thought for another time.

  "I'm a _friend_ ," Possible Killer replied then, dipping his head back to look at him through slitted eyes. His tone is deeply silken, unmistakable that of a man. "Of your aunt."

  Peter is so, so fucked.

 

 

  Turns out, May thought of Tony as much more than a friend; to say she's extremely fond of him would be an understatement. Unlike with her previous (various) boyfriends, Tony's invited over often to their tiny cramped apartment, even staying the night sometimes. In fact, Peter finds himself spending most mornings eating breakfast opposite him at the dining table more often than not; May puttering about in the kitchen behind them.

  "Don't you have school today, sweetie?"

  "It's a Tuesday," Peter reminds her. "Classes start an hour later."

  "Oh yes, I forgot," May says distantly, pulling out two mugs from the cabinets. Her eyes skip over him to land on the very same man she'd been staring at for the whole morning; sugar-sweet smile still on her face. "Coffee, Mr. Stark?"

  Tony purrs something back to her then, drawing out a giggle previously only reserved for Peter's corny math jokes. Something bitter courses through his body, leaving a sour taste behind in his mouth; he swallows it down along with a spoonful of soggy cereal. May comes over with mugs of steaming coffee and sets one in front of Tony, kissing his cheek with a loud smack-- urgh, _gross_. Peter stares down at the remaining cornflakes in his bowl, suddenly not feeling so hungry anymore.

  "Is there any coffee left?" he asks, shoving the bowl away. "I want some."

  Settling in to join them at the wood-graven table, May looks at him with mild surprise. "I didn't know you drink that stuff."

  "Yeah, well. Not regularly."

  Tony speaks up for the first time, meeting his gaze across the plates of toast and jam May had offered him. Pursing his lips he drawls out, "you know, I heard caffeine is bad for children."

  Oh, that _bastard_ \-- instantly Peter feels his cheeks flare up. He bites down harshly on his tongue, shoots back, "I'm not a child."

  "Of course not, I never said you were." Mr. Stark's smile is mockingly patronizing. "You're sixteen. That's plenty old."

  The chair he's sitting on screeches loud against the floorboards as Peter stands up abruptly. He doesn't want to be here anymore, can barely stand there and watch as May slaps Tony's arm half-heartedly, chiding a "stop teasing him, dear". Gritting his teeth, he grabs his half full bowl, milk sloshing over the sides, and practically stomps off to the kitchen counter. The dirty dishes clatter loudly against the sink, drowning out the voices of the two lovebirds outside; God he's pissed, unbearably so. If he stays there for even a second longer Peter's sure he's going to combust, so dejectedly he gathers up his class materials-- school sounds much better than being stuck at home right now, which is saying something.

  Of course, Tony catches sight of him leaving just in time to call out a cheery "Have fun at school, kiddo!" as Peter leaves, and he unceremoniously slams the door shut behind him on his way out.

 

  
  It's not until third period that Peter finally starts to wonder why it bothers him so much, that Mr. Stark thinks of him as nothing more than a child.

 

 

  Tony Stark is, for the lack of a better word in Peter's vocabulary, a dick. (For some reason, May likes him despite that-- or because of it, perhaps.) But here's the thing: he's an absolute asshole, yet not in the way Aunt May's previous partners had been. Tony never once showed up on their doorstep at two in the morning drunk out of his mind, barging his way inside the house despite May's meek protests. Tony never yelled at her, or threw things around the house when she came back late from a night out with friends. Sure, he seems incapable of saying anything to Peter without snark or sarcasm, and he obviously thinks highly of himself; but he's otherwise decent. He treats May well, and Peter's grateful for that. So he buries the dark swelling emotions in him as he watches his aunt talk animatedly about her day-- Tony listening, smiling and nodding at all the right places-- he shuts them all away from his mind.

  
  Their simple, casual dinner dates morph into day trips out in the city, then movie nights on their lumpy couch at home; then falling asleep tangled together with the television still on-- leaving Peter to shut it off and pull a thin blanket over May's shoulders.

  He stares at the thick arm wrapped loosely around her waist, all leanness and muscle, and for a split second indulges the thought of running his fingers down the length of it. He imagines what it'll be like to have Tony nestled up beside him, to lay his head on the man's rising-falling chest and fall asleep to deep snores, and surrounded by warmth.

  Then Peter tears his gaze away, angry and confused and disgustingly guilty, and slips off quietly back to his bedroom.

 

 

  "Wait wait wait, hold up. Aunt May got herself a new paramour? Why is this new to me, Parker?" Michelle exclaims. It's lunchtime now, and Peter's sitting with his usual companions, the three of them occupying a table near the back corner of the cafeteria-- where the cool kids sit.

  Note the sarcasm.

  "He's nothing special," Peter says scourly, stabbing a fork into the ham on his tray. "And also a major pain in the ass."

  "Pictures," MJ demands, sticking out an expectant hand, and with a roll of his eyes Peter digs out his phone and scrolls through his gallery. Ned shifts in his seat beside her and asks,

  "So what, he's an alcoholic? Druggie?"

  "Neither, actually. He just can be, you know, rude. A little standoffish." Reaching a picture of May had sent him of her and Tony at one of their many dinner dates, he offers the phone to MJ, who snatches it out of his hands to squint at the screen. When she looks up her eyes are so huge they look as though they're about to fall out of her sockets, exclaiming,

  "Woah, that's May's boy toy?!"

  God, Peter hated that word. "Yeah, lover, boyfriend, whatever you call it. They've been dating for weeks now."

  "Well _duh_ , he's hot. Like, criminally gorgeous," Michelle whistles, sliding the phone over to Ned, who glances at the photograph and hums mildly. Inexplicably, Peter flushes at the comment. He splutters,

  "You're not even-- you're a lesbian!"

  "That's bi erasure, Parker. I swing both ways," his friend corrects him. "Don't be a homophobe."

  "I'm  _gay_ ," he retorts flatly, then lunges forward to swipe his phone back from Michelle's hands. "And whatever, so what if he's hot? He's also a fucking asshat." Shoving the device back into his pocket, he slumps back onto his seat and resumes squashing his soggy peas, hoping desperately that the rising flush on his cheeks will go unnoticed.

  "Well, May seems to like him," Ned offers in consolation, and Peter shrugs simply, eyes still fixated on his tray. That's the problem, he thinks bitterly to himself, then quickly shoves the thought away. No _,no-_ \- bad boy, Peter. Stop it.

  "Why the long face buddy? You jealous or something?"

  _Shit._ _Shit-!_ "Of course not. I'm glad May's found someone she likes, she deserves that... I can't expect her to stay alone forever."

  MJ squints at him, then scoffs. "Not jealous of him, you idiot. Jealous of your aunt."

  "Wha-- why would I..." Peter stares back blankly at her for a long moment, meeting her pointed gaze with a confused one, until just what she's implying finally hits him like a ton of bricks to the face. "Oh. _OH-_ NO. What the actual fuck? I would never! Jesus Christ Michelle, he's dating my fucking aunt-" he splutters, face undoubtedly on fire now; feeling the burning blush at the tips of his ears. The very thought of it is so ludicrous, he can't even wrap his head around it-- "Plus he's, like, three times my age!"

  "And that's stopping you how...?"

  Ned shakes his head. "You're shameless."

  "I'm just saying," MJ shrugs, crunching noisily into her apple. "He's the hottest dude I've ever seen."

  "Please stop. You know you could be talking about my future uncle, right?"

  "I'd say he's more daddy material--"

  _Jesus fucking Christ._

 

  By the time Peter reaches home late than afternoon he's emotionally drained, mentally exhausted and more than ready to collapse into bed; as one often is after school. All he can think about is he twists the key into the lock and swings the front door open is flopping onto his creaky little bed, and he's so eager he barely wiggles through the opening and slams the door shut behind him before he's dumping his backpack noisily-- and a little grumpily-- onto the floor. Whatever; May's out anyway, it's just him alone at home. Liberation. Maybe he has time to take a bath or something, get off perhaps. Yeah, he probably should, Peter muses to himself, feeling his cheeks flush up slightly at the thought, lips twitching into a small smile. He's tugging his hoodie off already, shrugging off the sleeves and tossing it away before going as far as to raising the hem of his graphic tee up--  
  
  --when he hears the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. Suppressing what would be an embarrassingly girly scream at the last minute, Peter whips around to stare at the intruder.

  "Y'know sweetheart, I'm certainly not one to oppose a strip show but I'm gonna need to see your ID first, I'm afraid," Tony drawls out.

  Of course, who else would it be? That fucker's pinned a bold stare at him, an arched eyebrow raised delicately; seated in the almost exact pose as when they first met-- lounging languidly across the sofa as if he owned it. Only this time he's scruffier, less refined; dressed in just a baggy black AC/DC shirt and ripped jeans. That's not to say the older man doesn't look good, though-- the rugged look does wonders for him. And for the very first time, taking in those dark eyes, that chiselled jaw; it finally registers dimly in the recesses of Peter's mind that Tony Stark is a handsome man. Unbearably handsome. Of course, the teen knew Tony looked good as soon as he laid eyes on him-- anyone would have to be blind to miss that-- it wasn't just the sharp features, but also the way the distinguished man carried himself the way he walked and talked; he was hot, and the asshole knew it. Astonishingly, it's MJ's words ringing in his mind 'daddy material' that makes Peter finally internalize the thought.

  He's been staring way too long.

  "See something you like, sweetheart?" Tony says, the seemingly permanent smug look on back his face, and immediately the nice floaty feeling fades away. Dear god, he's infuriating. Peter's struck with the equal urge to smack that look of contempt off and kiss the man's curved red lips senseless at the same time. "You've got this cute little... dreamy look on your face."

  Okay, he's had enough. "You- you need to stop."

  "Why? Hit a little too close to home for y-"

  "Oh _shut it,_ " Peter spits, much too frustrated to hold back the words anymore. "For once in your life, shut _up_." The hem's of his shirt is still lifted up, he dimly realises; his fingers twisted in the fabric and tugging it higher up his torso. He's not the only one to reach this realisation-- Peter doesn't miss the subtle movement of Tony's eyes flitting over to his exposed navel, heavy gaze fixated on the pale sliver of skin there; and for some reason that intense look makes Peter's knees go a little weak. Breaths stuttering in his lungs, he watches as the older man's tongue slip out, run deliberately slow over his bottom lip, and the boy nearly swoons.

  Swallowing down his suddenly dry throat, he lets go of his grip, pulling his shirt back down before crossing his arms self-consciously; immediately Mr. Stark's gaze darts away back up to Peter's face, his stony expression giving nothing away. As soon as it had started the electric tension in the air disappears-- and Peter can't help but feel a little disappointed. Tony's still staring a little expectantly at him, so he clears his throat weakly, shifts his feet. "Uh... um, anyway. Where's May?"

  "Out for groceries. I'm staying over for dinner tonight."

  _Great._ "Oh."

  "You okay kid? You look pretty out of it," Tony adds, face twisting so his lips pout; his voice pitching higher to a childish coo. "Aww, is it time for your afternoon nap?"

  And just like that Peter flushes bright red,  for what's possibly the tenth time that day. _"Fuck you."_

  "Would love to, kid, but I'm not looking to get arrested tonight," Tony quips back without missing a beat, seeming almost delighted at himself for getting a rise out of Peter as he leans back into the cushions. Gritting his teeth, Peter turns abruptly on his heel and stalks away wordlessly to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him so loud he hears the hinges rattle in his ears. It almost drowns out the snickering laughter from Mr. Stark outside-- almost.

 

  He's too tired to deal with this shit right now, deal with that smug asshole outside and his lovesick aunt, and the three class tests he has this week. But most importantly, he's not going to  think about the slight hard-on in his jeans at this moment. 

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a little idea one anon gifted me with on tumblr. It became a drabble, then a one-shot, and now it's multi-chaptered so big fat oops I guess.  
> Do you like the fic so far? Do tell me what you think! Kudos and comments fuel my will to live.


End file.
